“She could swarm.” Lady Maccon swung her gun once more toward the vampire queen.

Lord Ambrose hissed.

Lady Maccon said, “Go on, Countess, swarm. There’s a good vampire.”

The duke let out an annoyed sigh. “Save us all from the practicality of soul-suckers. She can’t swarm on command, woman. Queens don’t just up and swarm when told they have to. Swarming is a biological imperative. You might as well tell someone to spontaneously combust.”

Alexia looked at Lord Ambrose. “Really? Would that work on him?”

At which juncture the most tremendous crash reverberated through the house, and guests at the party below started screaming.

The octomaton had arrived.

Lady Maccon gestured with her gun in an arbitrary manner. “Now will you swarm?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

In Which Lady Maccon Mislays Her Parasol

The countess jumped to her feet. So, too, did Felicity. Lord Ambrose decided Lady Maccon was no longer the greatest threat in his world and turned toward the racket.

“Now would be an excellent time,” prodded Alexia.

The countess shook her head in exasperation. “Swarming is not something one chooses. I know this is difficult for you to understand, soul-sucker, but not everything is the result of conscious thought. Swarming is instinct. I have to know, deep down in my soul on a supernatural level, that my hive is no longer safe. Then I would have to source a new hive, never to return to this one. Now is not that time.”

The house fairly rattled on its foundations as another mighty crash rent the air.

“Are you convinced of that?” wondered Alexia.

Something was literally tearing its way through the building, as a child will rip paper twists to get at the sugar candy inside. Tasty vampire candy. Mmm.

Felicity started to scream.

“Where did you stash Quesnel, Countess Nadasdy?” Lady Maccon raised her voice to carry over the din.

The countess was distracted by the commotion. “What?”

“I was simply suggesting you might want to retrieve him. Have him with you, and soon.”

“Oh, yes, excellent plan. Hematol, would you fetch the boy?”

“Yes, my queen.” The duke, having only just appeared, looked reluctant to obey; no vampire wishes to leave the side of his queen when she is in danger. But a direct order was a direct order, so he bowed perfunctorily and scurried off.

Yet another crash sounded. The door burst open. Dr. Caedes, a number of the footman-drones, and several other hive vampires ran into the room. Mabel Dair was the last inside, slamming the door behind her. The actress’s beautiful gold gown was ripped, and her hair had fallen down about her face. She looked as though she were just about to perform Ophelia’s death scene to a packed audience.

“My queen, you would not believe the monster down there! It is horrible! It ripped right through the wall, the one with the Titian. And it broke the bust of Demeter.”

The countess was obligingly sympathetic to the trauma. “Come to me, my dear.”